


The Intimidating Commander and the Reluctant Messenger

by WindySuspirations



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Divergence, Confident Cullen Rutherford, Cullen Smut, Cullen is a sweetheart, Cullenlingus, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Grumpy Cullen, Heterosexual Sex, I blame Bioware, Quizzy is a bit of a dork, Sexy Cullen, Shirtless Cullen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:23:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5563345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindySuspirations/pseuds/WindySuspirations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trevelyan is a Circle mage with a bit of Templar-o-phobia. She is tasked with delivering some requisition forms to Commander Cullen who scares her senseless. What she finds when she completes her task makes her consider the Commander in a new light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this fic came about from a post I made on r/Cullenmancers about how intimidating I found Cullen at first. Another Cullenmancer posted that it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for a Circle mage to be intimidated by him based on the events in the Kirkwall Circle and his actions while he was posted there. 
> 
> I haven't played DA II yet, but I've read about Cullen's history, and indeed, it does seem that any Circle mage might have cause to be at least a little afraid of him. At least until they get to know him.
> 
> I left the Inquisitor vague for your reading pleasure. Please leave comments/criticisms. As this is my first foray into writing Dragon Age fanfiction, please be gentle with me. :)

Pulling open the gates, Trevelyan stepped outside of the village proper and looked across the snow-covered road to the field where the Inquisition’s army was camped. Tents lined up in neat rows that stretched toward the frozen lake. In front of the tents was the large practice yard where the recruits were engaged in their afternoon drills. Their practice swords and shields clanked against each other as lieutenants walked back and forth amongst the battling men and women, barking orders.

She scanned the groups of soldiers, looking for the shiny armor and the ridiculous fur cape of the Commander of the Inquisition’s army. Where was that infernal man? He was usually supervising the recruits’ training at this time of day. Swearing under her breath, Trevelyan approached a young soldier who stood on the sidelines, strapping on his vambraces.

“Excuse me, Ser,” she said. “Do you know where I can find the Commander?”

“He’s in his tent, milady.” He pointed to a rather unassuming tent that was only slightly larger than the rest and set up close to the lakeshore. He dipped his head at her respectfully and resumed working on his armor.

“Thanks.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to force her knees to stop shaking. She had a simple task to complete; there was no need to panic. She’d drop off the Ambassador’s damned requisition forms and leave. It mattered not that she would be alone with a Templar; she’d be out of there before he could even think of trying anything.

Gritting her teeth, she walked toward the Commander’s tent. She’d made it a point to avoid the man outside of War Room meetings. His strict, gruff demeanor hadn’t improved her perception of him since the day they had met. She’d just closed a rift and Cassandra had informed him that she, Trevelyan, was responsible. Unimpressed, he’d just glared at her as only a Templar can glare at a mage and barked “Is it? I hope they’re right about you. We’ve lost a lot of people getting you here!”

Had that been the end of it — just simple animosity between Templar and Mage — she could have dealt with it without it affecting her so; however, the Commander was not just any Templar — he was the former Knight-Captain of the Kirkwall Circle. Kirkwall’s Circle was legend all around Thedas for its particularly brutal abuses of mages, and the man himself was well-known for his singularly vile hatred for all things magical. No, it was best for her to keep her distance from the former Templar. The less attention she drew from him, the better.

When she got to his tent, she noticed that the flap that served as the door was closed. Was he even in there? “Commander Rutherford?” she called, hating the quaver in her voice. “I have some paperwork for you, Ser.”

Immediately, she heard a groan coming from inside the tent followed by the Commander’s voice. “Maker’s breath! Can’t a man have an hour of peace?” A heavy sigh, then. “Enter!”

She cringed. He did not sound happy. Could this get any worse? With a sigh, she pushed aside the flap and entered the tent.

“Close that damned flap!” he hissed at her, and she jumped to comply, not wanting to anger him further.

Heart hammering wildly in her chest, she stood silently as she waited for eyes to adjust to the dim interior. After a moment, she noticed that it wasn’t quite as dark inside the tent as she had originally thought. The canvas walls and ceiling of the tent permitted in enough ambient light from the sun that she could see quite clearly.

In fact, she could see that the Commander lay stripped to the waist on his cot, a damp cloth covering his forehead and eyes. Her brows went up. What was he doing in bed at this hour of the afternoon?

Trevelyan looked at the man more closely. His bare chest rose and fell with the rhythm of his breathing, sweat glistening over the light dusting of dark blond hair that covered his strong pectoral muscles. Unable to stop her eyes, she followed the trail of hair that travelled down the middle of his ridged abdomen and, Maker help her; she could see that his trousers were loose and had slid tantalizingly low on his hips. Framed by the vee of his defined inguinal muscles, dense dark blond hair flared again low on his abdomen and disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants.

Maker, he was beautiful.

Curiosity overriding her fear, she stepped closer to the cot. Never before had she seen a man unclothed like this. Shifting her eyes lower, she studied the bulge of his manhood still concealed by his pants. She caught the barest suggestion of pink skin covered with more of that hair where the loosened laces of his pants parted. She licked her lips and swallowed. She wanted to tug those pants down just a little lower so that she could see what remained hidden. The illicit thought sent a thrill down her spine and warmth pooling low in her belly.

“Well? What is it?” His irritated growl broke her trance. Heat flooded her cheeks as she realized that she’d been standing there ogling his body for some time. She risked a glance toward his face and quailed when she saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. Maker’s mercy!

“R-requisitions, Ser,” she stammered, realizing belatedly that she no longer held the stack of papers in her hand. In a full panic now, she cast about in search of them and heaved a sigh of relief when she spied them scattered at her feet. Stooping down, she quickly gathered them together in a messy pile before straightening herself and risking another glance at him. He still lay on his back, the cloth undisturbed upon his brow; although she could tell his eyebrows had drawn together in a frown. “I’ll just leave them on your desk,” she murmured as she slowly backed away from the cot

Dropping the pile of papers on the cluttered desk that sat to her right, she turned and ran for the exit. She didn’t stop, not even when she heard him calling after her. “Herald? Wait!”

Uncaring about the stares she generated from the soldiers and the town folk she passed, she ran at full speed all the way back to the village and the safety of her little cabin, shutting and bolting the door behind her. She leaned against the door, panting heavily, her heart threatening to burst from her chest. Never would she do another favor for the Ambassador if it involved going anywhere near _him_.

When she was sure he wasn’t coming after her, she stepped away from the door and took deep breaths to calm herself.

  _It’s okay It’s over. No harm done_.

As images of the Commander as he lay in his bed rose in her mind, she became aware of another uncomfortable sensation between her legs.

Her heart picked up its pace once more as she thought of what his skin might feel like under her touch. Would it be soft or rough? How would his chest hair feel? What about the hair that grew lower? Most of all, she wondered what his manhood looked like- the bulge of it seemed huge to her innocent eyes.

She quickly crossed the room and stood before the mirror that sat atop her dresser. She began viciously dragging a brush through her tangled curls as she desperately quashed down those sinful thoughts. It wouldn’t do for her to think of him in that way. He might be the most handsome man she had ever seen, but the fact remained that he was a Templar and she a Mage. There could never be anything beyond civilized enmity between them.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen regrets yelling at the Herald, but is intrigued by the way she stared at his almost naked body. He’s determined to prove to her that he’s no ogre, so he tries to talk to her after a War Council meeting with some interesting results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so people asked about Cullen’s reaction, so here it is. This was really supposed to be a silly one-shot, but I can continue it if there’s interest. Thanks for the comments and kudos! I’m glad you’re enjoying the story!

Cullen sat up and swung his legs over the side of his cot, resting his aching head in his hands. He tried to make sense of what just happened, but his brain wouldn’t cooperate with him. Oh, Maker, had he just snapped at the Herald?

He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers to the spot above his left eye that felt as though someone was driving a spike through it with a hammer. He’d hoped that the pain would have lessened by now. The blighted herbs Adan had given him didn’t seem to be working as well as they had in the past, but then again he had ignored the signs and had only retreated to his tent once the migraine had nearly blinded him.

Running a hand through his hair, he grimaced as he looked at his desk. Piles of paperwork awaited his attention; he had no time for this. Maker’s breath, even if he could clone himself, he would still have too much work to do!

He wondered why the Herald was delivering requisitions at all, least of all to him. He leaned over and grabbed the cloth that had fallen off his forehead. He knew she avoided him, had seen the wariness and the distaste in her eyes on the rare times he’d caught her looking at him. He soaked the rag in the water basin before wringing it out and carefully lying down again with a groan

He was about to reapply the cloth to his forehead when he noticed just how low on his hips his loosened breeches had fallen. Andraste preserve him! The cloth fell out of his hands as he covered his bright red face with them. Not only had he barked at the Herald like a mabari with a sore paw, but he had also exposed himself, as well.

Shooting out of bed and growling curses between clenched teeth, he yanked up his breeches and began lacing them up. He had intended only to loosen them for comfort before he’d lain down! He hadn’t intended to…Maker’s breath! Uttering a sound of disgust that would rival one of Cassandra’s, he threw himself down on his cot and buried his face in his pillow.

_Well done, Rutherford. You’ve scared the poor girl off for good!_

As he lay there castigating himself, he realized something: some moments had passed from the time she had entered his tent and his loutish bellowing at her. What had she been doing during that time? He was sure that he had heard her emit a little gasp. Did she enjoy looking at his near-naked body? This thought made him grin in spite of his still-throbbing head.

Flopping onto his back, he sighed and reached for the cloth once again, draping it over his forehead. He had to find a way to speak with the Herald as soon as he felt better. Tossing one arm over his eyes, he thought about her, thought about her watching him and getting aroused by his near nakedness. Yes, he needed to talk to her, to see if what he now suspected about her was true: that the little minx wanted him as much as he wanted her.

 ~~~~

He stood before the small mirror hanging above his wash-basin and eyed his appearance critically. He wanted to look put-together for his first meeting with the Herald since she had delivered those requisitions to his tent two weeks ago. She had returned from the Hinterlands only yesterday, and there was a War Council meeting this morning to discuss the results of her trip. He had shaved off yesterday’s beard and had pomaded his unruly curls into the usual swept-back style he preferred. However, he could do nothing to conceal the waxy paleness of his complexion, nor the dark shadows under his eyes. He nodded at his reflection. It would have to do.

Taking up his sheaf of reports, he exited his tent and made his way toward Haven’s Chantry. The day was brisk and clear with no wind. As he walked, he turned his face upward into the warm sunlight and breathed in the cool air. Thank the Maker, he felt almost well this morning. His joints ached only mildly, and his neck felt stiff, but that was all. He smiled and nodded at the townspeople he passed on the way and paused to toss back a ball that had landed near his feet to some children playing in front of the small houses that lined the village streets. It was good to see that the townspeople were returning to their normal lives after the Temple of Sacred Ashes exploded and the Breach appeared.

Sister Leliana and Ambassador Josephine were already in the War Room when he entered. “Good morning, ladies,” he greeted them. “I trust you both slept well?”

“Quite well,” said Leliana as she made room for him on the other side of the table.

“I daresay I got more sleep than you, Commander,” Josephine looked up from her portable secretary where she was jotting down some notes. “You look rather peaked.”

He grimaced as he came around the table to take his place between the two women — as if he needed reminding that he looked unwell. He gave her a tight smile in return. His relationship with the Ambassador was one of mutual tolerance. He knew she thought him simple at best and downright boorish at worst. For his part, he had little patience for her political maneuverings

“Good morning,” said Seeker Cassandra as she and the Herald entered the War Room a few minutes later. In the rush of air caused by their entry, Cullen caught the scent of fresh wildflowers with a hint of citrus: her scent. He observed the Herald as she started to move map markers around on the map. The country air seemed to agree with her; her skin had tanned to an attractive golden hue, and her cheeks held the barest trace of pink. Maker’s breath, she had been lovely before, but now, she was breathtakingly beautiful. His heart hurt just to look at her.

“Lady Trevelyan, we’ve read your reports, but why don’t you tell us about your interactions with Horsemaster Dennett,” Leliana prompted softly.

The Herald cleared her throat and stood up straighter with arms placed behind her back. The pose thrust her chest forward, accentuating the curves of her breasts which were on fine display by her low-cut black leather vest. His eyes glazed over, and he had to shake himself to focus on her words. “Yes, Master Dennett needs a few things from us before he will commit to providing horses. I’ve already cleared out the wolves for his wife, but I’ll need your help to build the watch towers he requested,” she said, plopping down markers for each location.

“Building towers won’t be a problem for our soldiers, my lady,” Cullen said as he watched her slender hands manipulate the markers. He wondered what they would feel like caressing his bare skin, wondered what they would feel like wrapped around his cock. He swallowed dryly. Maker take him, he was already half hard just thinking about it.

She nodded her head to acknowledge him but didn’t say anything and didn’t look at him. As she tilted her head to look at the map, he noticed a few stray curls had escaped her neat braid. They framed her face beguilingly, drawing his attention to her delicately arched eyebrows and the fine sprinkling of freckles on her pert nose. _Maker, she’s so young_. He briefly considered that she might be too young for him, but cast that thought aside when he saw how the sunlight streaming through the windows picked up the gilt strands in her brown hair. How he wanted to undo her braid and bury his face in those thick locks and inhale her intoxicating scent.

Taking a deep breath, he schooled his expression. “I’ll send out a detail at once,” he told her, keeping his voice pleasant and soft. He wanted to reassure her that he wasn’t going to jump down her throat again, or Maker knew whatever atrocities lurked in her mind that he might commit. The fear he saw in her eyes on the rare occasions when she would look at him made him sick to his stomach.

And then Seeker Cassandra had to bring up the single issue that was guaranteed to spark his anger.

“There is the matter of the message from Enchanter Fiona about meeting her in Redcliffe to discuss an alliance with the mages,” she said, her gaze fixed on him. “Securing the mages would allow us to pour enough power into the Herald’s mark to close the Breach.”

“It could also destroy us all,” Cullen objected, his voice rising with his irritation. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, desperately clinging to the fraying thread of his temper. While he’d made peace with mages and magic before leaving Kirkwall, the thought of charging up the Herald’s mark with more magic made him faintly queasy. He continued in a calmer tone. “Templars could suppress the breach, weaken it so…”

“Pure speculation,” Leliana cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand.

Whatever hold Cullen had on his temper disappeared at her dismissive tone. “Do you doubt me? Blast it, Leliana; I was a Templar! I know what they are capable of,” he spat in response. He raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. A headache took up residence behind his left eye; it was just a dull ache at present, but he knew it would rapidly worsen.

“No one doubts your expertise, Commander,” Cassandra interjected calmly. “But the fact remains that we need power, and the mages can provide it.”

Cullen scowled across the war table at Cassandra. “The Templars would serve just as well.” He crossed his arms over his chest. He knew he was stubborn, but damn it all, they were playing with fire!

“Well, I think we should at least meet with her and see what she offers,” Leliana said, picking a piece of lint off her sleeve. The only outward sign that she was the slightest bit annoyed was the barest narrowing of her blue eyes. Cullen never knew where he stood with the Inquisition’s Spymaster, and it made him nervous.

“I will meet with Enchanter Fiona,” the Herald said quietly but with surprising forcefulness. She looked up and leveled a blue-eyed glare on him as if daring him to argue with her.

Maker, her eyes were lovely; like the sun-dappled waters of Lake Calenhad on a summer’s day. He suddenly forgot why he was so upset and his headache faded into the background. She was just going to talk with the mages, after all. Surely there was no harm in that.

He smiled at her and shrugged. “Fair enough, Herald.”

She quickly dropped her eyes but not before he noticed the quick once-over she had given him. Flushing slightly, the Herald’s nostrils flared and her mouth parted. He could not look away as her pink tongue darted out to lick those luscious red lips.

“If there’s no other business, I need to…go.” She bit her lip and shifted her feet nervously. She glanced up at him again and then quickly away. He wanted to answer her desire, to kiss her and taste her lips. It had been a long time since he felt so taken by a woman.

He was fucked.

“Does anyone have anything else to bring up?” Leliana asked the group. The cursed woman gave him a knowing look, and he felt his cheeks get warm. When everyone shook their heads, she gathered up her papers and started for the door. “Then, we are adjourned for today.”

As the Herald began to file out of the room with the other women, Cullen quickly rounded the table and lightly placed a hand on her arm to stop her. “Might I have a word, my lady,” he queried softly. Too late, he realized his mistake: she immediately yanked her arm away from him with a gasp, as if his touch burned. She turned to face him with eyes that had gone wide with fear.

Feeling as if a heavy weight had settled somewhere in the region of his heart, Cullen held up both hands so that she could see them and stepped back from her. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The Herald straightened and, although she still trembled, she looked at him square in the face, her eyes nearly on a level with his owing to her remarkable height. “What can I do for you, _Knight_ -Commander?” He did not miss the emphasis, but he found that he couldn’t correct her. He couldn’t say anything at all; all he could do is watch as she widened her stance and crossed her magnificently toned arms across her breasts. The movement only served to draw his eyes down to her taut middle where the tight material of her vest hugged her flat belly. The hem of the vest rested an inch shy of the waistband of the equally tight black leather pants she wore, revealing a tempting sliver of sun-kissed skin, and it was all he could do to restrain himself from reaching out and tracing it all around with his finger.

Maker’s breath!

She was looking at him, the expression on her face caught midway between alarm and interest. Summoning his Templar discipline, he reigned in his lust. He didn’t want to frighten her any more than she already was. As his ardor cooled, he found his voice. “Ah,” he raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I, um, wanted to apologize for my behavior the other day. I can assure you that it won’t happen again, my lady.”

Her eyes darkened and dropped to his crotch. Maker help him, did she remember what she had seen that day? “Um, thank you, Ser, but that isn’t necessary,” she said, raising her glance but keeping her eyes fixed on a point beyond his right shoulder. “May I go now?”

“As long as you promise to come visit me whenever you like,” he blurted, unable to stop the words from coming out.

“Err…of course, Commander.” She dipped her head toward him, and with one last fleeting glance at him, she turned around and walked out of the room.

He followed her through the door and watched her jaunty steps as she moved through the Chantry Hall, her perky bottom swaying as she walked. He sighed and closed his eyes for a minute, feeling the ache in his groin. He was so completely fucked.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Commander and the Herald get to know each other a little better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I've taken so long to update. I started a new job and real life's been keeping me busy!
> 
> Anyway, here's another chapter for you guys. It was fun to write and I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Oh, and thanks again for the kudos and comments. You're all awesome!

Trevelyan did not know what to make of the Commander anymore. In the weeks since his apology, he’d been unfailingly polite in all of their dealings. He didn’t push her to spend time with him, but whenever they ran into each other, he always asked how she was doing, with genuine interest, it seemed. He also brought her little gifts; just small things that he knew she’d like and leave them for her on the war table.

Like the other day, she’d found a plate of her favorite sugar cookies waiting for her as she entered the War Room. She couldn’t believe that he remembered her mentioning it during lunch at the tavern one day. She’d looked at him to find him smiling at her, his amber eyes alight with mirth. Then the confounding man had winked at her and encouraged her to enjoy her treat.

She looked across the road from the stables, where she was brushing the big Fereldan Forder Master Dennett had given her, to the practice field where the Commander was busy training the troops. She stopped brushing to observe him for a moment. The sunlight turned his blond hair into spun gold and glinted off his shiny armor as he walked from one end of the practice field to the other. He paused every now and then to give instructions to recruits. She watched as he pulled one totally helpless fellow aside and demonstrated for him how to hold a shield properly.

“Your Templar’s putting those men through their paces,” a voice said from somewhere off to her right. She turned to find the Iron Bull, the big Qunari mercenary she’d recruited on her mission to the Storm Coast, standing beside her. He nodded his gigantic horned head toward the practice field. “He’s good.”

She glanced at him before turning her gaze back to the Commander and his soldiers. “He’s not my Templar,” she said. “How did you know he was a Templar anyway?”

“It’s obvious from the way he holds his shield. The Qun use a similar method — and he is yours, Boss. You just haven’t figured it out yet.” He gave her lewd grin and walked off.

She scratched the top of her head. What was Bull talking about? She returned her attention to the road and was surprised to see that the Commander had stopped his circuits amongst the recruits. He now stood off to the side with his arms crossed over his broad chest and he was looking at her. When she caught his gaze, he grinned widely at her and nodded his golden head in acknowledgment.

She gave him a little wave and turned to lead her horse back to his stall. Her Templar. It was a ridiculous notion, and quite dangerous, as well. She thought of how he had looked that day in his tent, his body nearly bare to her gaze. She removed her horse’s bridle and closed the stall door, turning to give the stallion a quick pat on the nose before hanging the bridle on a nearby hook. If she were honest with herself, she had to admit that what she had seen of him that day often featured in her dreams.

The Commander was the most handsome man she had ever met; he was also the most thoughtful and kind one, too. She wanted to spend time with him, wanted to listen to his sweet voice and hear him laugh. Maker, how had he transformed from a scary Templar into…what? Templar or no, she wanted to get to know her Commander better. Resolving to seek him out at her earliest opportunity, she turned toward the tavern and lunch.

 ~~~

It wasn’t until a few weeks and a trip to the Fallow Mire to rescue a squad of Inquisition soldiers later that she got up the nerve to approach the Commander. It happened quite by accident: she was returning from a brief stroll around the lake when she saw the glow of candlelight spilling forth into the rapidly darkening night from his tent.

Peering inside, she could see him seated behind his desk and scribbling on some parchment.

 “Commander?”

He turned his head at the sound of her voice and smiled in welcome. “Herald! You’ve finally come to visit me! Please, do come in.” He stood as she entered and bowed low before her, causing his unlaced shirt to gap away from his chest, giving her a view of hard muscle and soft-looking hair. Maker’s mercy, she wanted to touch it. She remembered how it narrowed into a thin line over his abdomen and thickened again over his lower belly and beyond.

Squelching such inappropriate thoughts, she looked around his tent for a place to sit, but there was nothing available except his bed…and she wasn’t about to sit down there. She opted to perch on the side of his desk beside his chair as he came around and sat back down.

“It’s good to see you,” he said warmly, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand. A thrill raced up her arm, down her spine, and straight into her core. She blushed, and the devilish man actually winked at her before releasing her hand and leaned back in his chair, crossing his fingers across his flat stomach “How was your trip to the Mire? Our soldiers were quite taken with you, you know. They’ve been raving about their beautiful Herald rescued them.”

“I’m hardly that, but I am glad we were able to find them. However, if it’s alright with you, I’d rather not ever visit the Mire again.” She made a disgusted face; she was sure the bog’s stench had been seared into her nostrils.

He laughed. “I don’t blame you! I remember the foul place from Templar training. I think we were scraping bog and mud out of our armor for weeks afterward. Can I offer you some wine, my lady?” He sat forward and inclined his head toward a carafe that sat on his desk.

“Um, that’s nice of you to offer, Commander, but no thank you.” It was difficult enough to keep her head when sitting so close to him without adding alcohol to the mix.

“As my lady wishes, but I must insist that you call me Cullen.”

“If I do that, Cullen, you must call me Evelyn,” she told him, giving him a smile in return. “I’m ill-at-ease with this Herald nonsense, anyway."

“Very well, Evelyn. Now, what brings you to my tent this evening?”

Thinking quick, she said the first thing that came to mind: “I wondered about your Templar training. Bull mentioned he could tell you were a Templar by the way you handle your shield. What other things do they teach you in the Templars?”

“Can you be more specific? Templar training is quite extensive.” He stretched his legs out in front of him, sank lower in his chair, and tilted his head attentively.

“Specific to fighting magic…what training do you receive for that?”

“Much of it is to do with mental focus. I remember practicing with my sword until my muscles ached and I couldn’t lift my blade anymore. We learn techniques to calm the mind, as well.“  He cocked his eyebrow at her and continued. “But you know much most Templar abilities come from lyrium, yes?”

“Yes.” She shuddered a little, recalling how some of the Templars at the Ostwick Circle would look after receiving their daily dose of lyrium. Their eyes would become glassy and unfocused and Maker, the way they acted! Even the kindest of them would become brash and unfeeling for a time after dosing.

Cullen reached out and put a hand on her knee. “Are you cold, Evelyn? Shall I close the flap?”

“N-no,” she stammered a little. “It’s fine…just a memory.”

“Ah,” he said and sat back again, but his expression remained concerned. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

Still feeling the warmth where his hand had touched her knee, she searched her brain for something else to ask him. “Are Templars also expected to also give up…physical temptations?”

“That’s not expected — no. Templars can marry — although there are rules around it, and the Order must grant permission…some may choose to give up more to prove their devotion, but it’s not required.”

“Have you?”

That damned eyebrow of his went up again, and his grin turned positively wicked. “Evelyn,” he said, his voice dropping to a lower register. “Are you asking me if I’m a virgin?”

Trevelyan could have smacked herself. Why had she asked him that, of all things? She blushed and immediately dropped her gaze to the floor. Well, there was nothing for it, except to brazen it out.

“Um, well, are you?” she finally said, daring to look at him again. He was leaning back in his chair once again and smirking at her.

“Why don’t you come here, and I will show you whether I am or not,” he said, patting his lap. She gulped, heat rising from her center to suffuse her entire body. Was he serious? From the way he was looking at her, oh, Sweet Andraste, those eyes, he looked dead serious. He looked as if he’d like to devour her.

“C-Cullen,” she started, unable to draw her eyes away from his lambent gaze. Her legs felt like molasses, and her mouth seemed to be full of cotton.

“You’ve never done this before, have you sweetling?” His smile turned gentle as he reached out and pulled her into his lap.

She averted her eyes and gave him a quick nod, not trusting her voice. His thighs felt solid and warm beneath her, and the tempting slice of bare skin exposed by the vee of his shirt invited her touch. Before she could lift a hand to run her fingers over his chest, his fingers gently gripped her chin and tilted her face up.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he commanded softly, and she raised her eyes to his. His brow was creased with concern, though his eyes remained heated, their amber color turning to honey-gold. “I’ll not take you in this cold tent— you deserve better than that for your first time.” He smiled and brushed a lock of her hair away, trailing his fingers across her cheek. “I would but claim a kiss from you, if you’ll allow it.”

He wanted to kiss her. Her gaze alighted on his full lips with that entrancing scar marring their perfect symmetry. She realized she very much wanted him to kiss her. She nodded her head and her lips parted, waiting for him.

He closed the distance between their faces and captured her lips with his own. His kiss was gentle at first, asking, rather than demanding. His hands came up to cup both of her cheeks as his thumbs stroked the sides of her face. Maker, his lips were so warm and firm, and he tasted absolutely delicious – a combination of wine and his own unique and intoxicating flavor. With a moan, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her torso closer to his.

Settling her firmly on his rising erection, Cullen groaned as he turned his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue flicked against her lips, coaxing them to open wider. Instinctively, she opened to him, and his tongue slid into her mouth. One of his hands cupped the back of her head, holding her firmly in place while his mouth ravished hers. He pressed his other hand into her back, driving the mounds of her breasts into the hard planes of his chest.

Mindlessly, she started rocking her hips back and forth, rubbing her core against his bulging arousal. Her movements ripped a low groan from him. He tore his mouth away from hers and his hands came down to still her hips. Feeling the loss of his warm mouth, she leaned forward, intending to recapture his lips, but he pulled away, his breath coming in short gasps. He gave a short laugh and leaned his damp forehead against hers.

“We must stop, sweetling, or I’ll take you right here in this chair,” he said, gently stroking her back.

She sighed in disappointment. “But Cullen, I want this…I want you,” she confessed, reaching out to play with the edges of his shirt.

“And I want you, too,” he said as he brushed his thumb across her lips. “You’ve no idea how much. But, as I said, I want your first time to be special.” One corner of his lips turned up in that sexy smirk that turned her insides to jelly and the promise in his heated gaze sent a shiver down her spine. “I want to lay you open and see you come undone before I bury myself in you. I want to see where else,” he touched her cheek. ”That lovely flush colors your skin. Mmhmm. And I want to take my time.”

“You mean every word of it, don’t you?” She asked as he pushed her to her feet and away from his straining breeches.

“Indeed I do, my sweet. Now be off with you.” He rose from his chair and stretched, his joints cracking loudly in the quiet of the evening. “It’s late, and we have a long day coming tomorrow.”

Feeling daring, she walked up to him and ran a finger down his front, from collar to crotch. She giggled at the gasp she wrung from him before turning away and giving him a heated look over her shoulder.

 “Later, Commander.”  Trevelyan sent him a saucy grin and sashayed out of the tent and into the cool night air.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Trevelyan have a little fun together. In other words, there be lots of smut ahead. You've been warned. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am clearly going to hell. My dirty mind just can't stop imagining Cullen doing nasty little things to the Inquisitor. 
> 
> This was a lot of fun to write. Who would have thought smut was so enjoyable to describe? I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Since I can't think of where else to take this particular story, I am ending it here with these two lovebirds getting it on together.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are welcome!

Cullen had Evelyn up against the wooden door of the War Room, his arms on either side of her head, using the bulk of his body to trap her there. He was kissing her slowly and deliberately, deep open-mouthed kisses, as he ground himself against her, letting her feel how aroused she made him.

She’d only returned from Redcliffe Castle yesterday with the rebel mages following her, and this was his first opportunity to have her to himself in weeks. Maker, he wanted to drown himself in her. He dropped a hand to cup a breast, groaning against her mouth at its plump softness. He dragged his mouth from hers and stooped to suck on her nipple through the material of her shirt. He heard her gasp and felt her tremble under him.

“Cullen,” his name was a plea on her lips. He wondered how she would sound when he took her over the edge. He moved to lavish the other breast with the same treatment, dampening the cloth of her shirt and causing it to cling to her erect nipples.

He straightened and stood back a little to look at her. Her eyes were half closed and dark with want, and her breath came in heaving gasps. Her lips were parted, rosy red and swollen from his kisses. He’d never seen her look lovelier than she looked now, half-way debauched by him. How beautiful would she be, naked as the Maker made her, under him as he took her?

His mouth descended once more, his tongue tangling with hers, one hand sliding down her body to cup her sex, this thumb rubbing gently. He smiled against her lips as he felt her shudder against him.

“Cullen,” she cried out.

“Yes, love?” His palm continued teasing her through her clothes, his lips trailing kisses down her neck.

“What are we doing?” Her voice was breathy and soft, and Maker, she was rocking against his hand now. “We’re in the war room…Oh, Cullen, what are you doing? Anyone could walk in.”

“Mmhm,” he confirmed against the hollow of her throat. He slipped his hand inside her breeches, twisting to get inside her smallclothes until his fingers met with her moist center. Andraste preserve him, she was practically drenched. He couldn’t help it. He knelt down before her and tugged her breeches and smalls down in one go. He planted his face between her legs with a soft moan.

Above him, she gave a sharp gasp as his tongue found her nub and flicked at it, licking in a circular motion. He groaned against her as she wiggled against his face. Her fluids were now coating his lips and chin. She tasted like the sweetest nectar, just as he knew she would.

“Cullen?” She questioned and he knew she was close. He could feel her trembling, so he gently rubbed the backs of her thighs reassuringly. Then, he went to work on her in earnest.

With the tip of his tongue, he brushed that swollen bundle back and forth and suckling at it. Just as she had bucked against his hand, she was now bucking against his mouth, her cries of ecstasy driving him insane with want. Maker’s breath, she was so perfect, her scent, her taste, the feel of her on his lips and tongue. He didn’t think he could ever get enough of her.

He felt her tense and heard her call his name as if it were a litany to the Maker himself as the wave of her orgasm crested over her. Still, he continued to work on her, smirking against her as she came yet again and then a third time. She was so damned responsive; it made him ache to feel her wrapped around him.

She was leaning her whole weight against the door when he stood up. Her eyes were closed and she was still breathing hard. “What have you done to me?” She panted as she gripped his fur pauldrons with both hands.

He chuckled. “Did you not like that, sweetling?” He lowered his mouth to hers and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips as he lightly brushed his fingers through her hair.

She blushed and buried her face against his chest. “Well, yes, but …”

He pulled back and tucked his knuckles under her chin to raise her face toward him. “But what?”

“You had your mouth…down there…” her voice trailed off and her cheeks went red

“Why, yes I did. And I’ll have it there again, many more times, in fact. And do you know why?“ He kissed her. “Two reasons: You taste divine and I love making you come.” He winked and smirked. Sweet Maker, how she brought out the lecher in him.

She surprised him by putting her hand over his throbbing cock and stroking him through his breeches. “What about you?” He groaned and gripped her hips tightly.

“My sweet innocent Evelyn, that will have to wait until we have more time. I’ve troop exercises to supervise in five minutes…”He paused, considering. “I’ll come to your cabin tonight after supper and” He trailed a hand down her chest and cupped a breast. “We’ll continue this then,” he promised, tweaking a nipple

She inhaled sharply and batted his hand away. “Then you’d best let me go, Commander, and I will see you later.”

He leaned in to give her one final kiss before reaching around her to open the door. “Until tonight, then.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

That night, after supper, Trevelyan paced in her quarters as she waited for Cullen to show up. She thought back to what had happened between them that afternoon in the War Room. She still couldn’t believe what he’d done to her with his mouth down there. It had felt amazing and strange all at once. She hoped that she hadn’t been too loud. What if the others had heard her and knew what she and the Commander had been up to in there? She blushed as she thought of it. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to look anyone in the eye again.

Her heart leapt into her throat when she heard the knock on her door. Clutching at the front of her dress, she walked the few steps and opened it to find the Commander standing there. Her mouth dropped open when she saw him.

He wasn’t wearing his normal armor. Instead, he wore a black shirt tucked into dove grey breeches with a wide black belt wrapped around his slim hips. He had left the shirt unlaced to mid-chest and had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his muscular forearms. Black boots completed his outfit His blond hair was neatly brushed back and he’d shaved. In one hand, he held a bottle of wine and in the other a bouquet of wildflowers.

“Hello, love,” he said, smiling softly. “These are for you. “ He handed her the bouquet and watched as she brought it to her nose and smelled it. “I would have preferred to bring you roses, but I’m afraid Haven doesn’t have any.”

“Hello, Commander,” she said and stepped aside to allow him to walk past her and into her small cabin. “And these wildflowers are lovely. Thank you.”

He set the wine down on the small table in the middle of the cabin and waited until she put the flowers in a glass of water before he took her in his arms and crushed her lips to his. His mouth was hard and hungry on hers and she parted her lips to him. His tongue brushed against hers, stroking it and encouraging her to reciprocate. They stood there kissing like that for several long moments, neither wanting to release the other.

Finally, Cullen drew back and and took her hands in his. “Come, love, let’s sit and have some wine. We have all night, and I intend to enjoy every minute of it.”

Snagging the wine and two glasses, he led her to her bed. He set down the wine and the glasses on the floor beside the bed and sat down on the edge to remove his boots and socks. Taking up the wine and glasses again, he poured them both a glass and set down the wine bottle on the floor. Scooting backwards until his back hit the wall, he spread his legs and motioned for her to sit between them and lean back against his chest.

They sat like that, sipped their wine, and talked for a long while. He told her more about some of his adventures as a Templar recruit and talked about his family. She could tell that he loved his sisters and brother and that he missed them a lot. She told him about her life in the Circle at Ostwick and her family. He listened attentively and asked her questions. It felt so good to sit with him and to feel his warmth against her back. Then she frowned as she thought of something that had been bothering her since she had returned with the mages.

“Cullen,” she started. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything you wish,” he responded, wrapping one arm around her waist and giving it a squeeze.

She turned her upper body so that she could look at his face. “You were pretty upset about the way I brought the rebel mages into the Inquisition,” she said, carefully watching his expression. Maker, she hoped he wouldn’t hold it against her, him being a Templar and all. He’d been absolutely livid when he’d learned about the alliance. In fact, she’d never seen him so angry, especially at her.

He raised a hand to gently caress her cheek and sighed. He looked away from her briefly before returning his gaze to hers.

“It’s fine, sweetheart. Your alliance is in no danger from me.” He sighed again and continued. “My only concern was for the safety of everyone, the mages included. I hope you can understand that.”

Relief washed over her. He wasn’t upset with her, thank the Maker. She smiled broadly at him and raised her glass for a toast. “To making safe alliances,” she said.

“To safe alliances,” he responded. They clinked glasses and sipped their wine. “Now,” he said, taking her glass and setting it down on the floor along with his.” I don’t know about you, but I am getting a little hot.”

She turned to look at him. He was smirking at her as he reached behind his head to tug off his shirt. He tossed it on the floor. Then he plucked at the sleeves of her dress. “Off,” he ordered, and he helped her work the buttons and slid it off her body. In only her smallclothes and breast band, he tugged her back against him and she gasped at the feel of his muscular hair-roughened chest against her nearly bare back. He dropped his head to press his lips to her bare shoulder. “Mm...much better.”

He slid one hand down her bare stomach to slip inside her smalls. She arched against him and moaned when his fingers found her pearl. “Well, well, what have we here?” He was kissing up her neck along her jaw line, one hand coming up to hold her chin steady as his mouth worked its way toward hers. The other hand, Maker, the other hand was fingering her, encouraging her to part her legs so that he had more access. “So wet for me,” he said against her mouth before kissing her deeply. She could feel his cock, hard against her bum.

He turned her around so that she was facing him and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips as he pulled her against him. Her breasts were smashed against his chest and his hands were at her back undoing her breast band and flinging it aside. She gasped at the feel of his hard chest against her bare breasts. The hair on his chest tickled her and she giggled a little, only to be silenced by another hard kiss.

He picked her up and climbed off the bed, setting her down before him to pull down her smalls. She stepped over them and was suddenly overcome with shyness. One arm came up to cover her breasts while her other hand covered her mound.

He stepped forward and tugged away her hands. “Do not hide from me, sweetling.” He stepped back to look at her with lust-darkened eyes. “So beautiful,” he whispered. “So fucking beautiful.”

His eyes remained locked on hers as his fingers slowly unbuckled his belt and worked on the laces of his breeches. Sliding them off, he kicked them away and stood before her completely naked. She couldn’t help but stare. He’d called her beautiful, but surely that descriptor was better suited to him.

He had a warrior’s build: thickly muscular, with wide shoulders and a broad, deep chest that tapered toward a trim waist and svelte hips. His thighs and calves were well-developed and covered with the same downy blond hair as his forearms. She looked down at his sex, standing tall and proud against the thick mat of hair that grew between his thighs. Maker, he was so big, she wondered how he would even fit inside her.

A wicked grin turned up the corners of his lips, tugging at the scar on the right side. He stalked toward her and pulled her against him, and for the first time, she felt his arousal against her bare, burning quim. She moaned softly at the heat of him, how smooth he felt, and wondered how he would feel inside her. “And now, my sweet, I am going to worship every inch of your delectable body before I take you.”

He laid her out on her bed and climbed over her, kissing her all the while as his hands cupped her breasts, fingers tweaking her nipples. His lips left hers to trail down her throat, over her chest and then engulfing a nipple, suckling it with his mouth and laving it with his tongue. Then he continued his journey down her stomach, and then, sweet Maker, his tongue was parting her folds while his hands spread her legs open wide.

“Cullen, oh Cullen, Cullen!” She cried out as he nipped at her folds and licked her with broad strokes of his tongue. She felt more than heard him chuckle as he continued his torturous ministrations. Kissing and sucking at her nether lips, he worked his way back to her clit, pausing to blow puffs of air over the throbbing bundle of nerves. Then he took it between his teeth and gently worried at it. Her hips bucked against him as she chased the release that was just on the horizon. Maker’s mercy, it felt so good. Where had he learned to do this?

He raised his hands to palm her breasts and brush against her erect nipples as he continued to work at her clit. His tongue was now moving faster, brushing against it in a come-hither motion. “Oh, Cuullllennnnn!” She screamed as her release came. “Cullen, Cullen, Cullen,” she gasped, unable to stop saying his name as he brought her over three more times before sitting back on his knees in front of her and wiping her cream from his lips and chin. It was the sexiest, most wanton thing she had ever seen and she nearly came again from just the sight of it. Not that she had seen anything like it, ever, but still.

“I told you you’d be crying my name,” he said, his voice echoing the satisfaction in that damnable grin on his face. “And now, my love, I am going to do what I’ve been longing for since I first saw you.” He covered her with his body once again, leaning most of his weight on his arms which rested on either side of her head, causing his corded muscles to stand out in high relief. “I will try my hardest to be gentle, but this might hurt a little at first. Are you sure you want this?” His eyes were serious as he looked down at her.

She surveyed his handsome face as he hovered over her. His sweat-damp brow was furrowed and the line between his eyebrows had deepened with concern as he awaited her answer. She reached up a hand to caress his smooth cheek, her thumb coming down to brush against his full lips, tracing over his scar. He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing. In that moment, she was sure that she loved him.

She waited until he opened his eyes and was looking at her again before answering. “Yes,” she said simply, giving him a small smile. “I want you, Cullen Rutherford.”

He exhaled deeply as if he had been holding his breath and hugged her to him tightly with one arm. “I will be as gentle as I can,” he promised her once more before kissing her lips. Then he positioned himself at her entrance and, using the fingers of one hand as a guide, he slowly entered her. Bit by bit he pushed into her, waiting for her to get used to him before moving deeper. It felt strange at first, but not unpleasant. It was like he was filling her up and stretching her.

When he breeched her maidenhead, she felt a slight sting, but it was over quickly, and afterward, she only felt a pleasant warmth. He groaned as he buried himself to the hilt inside her. “Maker’s breath,” he whispered roughly. “You’re so fucking tight….feels so good.” He paused there and leaned down to kiss her before he started to move. “Evelyn, you’re so beautiful,” he said, putting a hand between them to finger her clit as he thrust in and out of her. Maker’s mercy, she was going to come again; she could feel her orgasm building, both from the delightful things his fingers were doing as well as the heat of his manhood inside her.

“Cullen,” she started crying out his name again. “Oh sweet Maker, Cullen!”

“Yes, sweetheart. Come for me again. I want to hear you as I fuck you.”

“Oh, Maker, Cullen, Cullen, Oh Cullen Cullen Cullen!”

“That’s it, my wanton little love. Let all of Haven hear you!”

“Cullen!” Her orgasm overtook her and he followed soon after, his hips pistoning against her wildly.

“Oh, fuck, oh, Evelyn!” He shouted as he came inside her, his seed spilling into her womb.

With sated groan, he collapsed into a sweaty and boneless heap at her side. His broad chest heaved as he took in oxygen in great gulps, one arm thrown over his eyes. She sat up a little to look at him, happiness expanding inside her chest when she saw his satisfied little grin.

She settled herself on her side, resting her head on his shoulder as she reached over to tangle her fingers in his chest hair. It was just as soft as she’d imagined it and she found that she didn’t want to stop playing with it.

“Having fun, love?” She looked up to see him watching her with one eyebrow raised.

She giggled. “Yes.”

“Good.” He sighed happily and closed his eyes, clearly enjoying her touch.

~Fin~


End file.
